Who did that to you?
by BrazenMonkey
Summary: Loki finds that Darcy's ex has not been too kind to her - Songfic to 'Who did that to you' by John Legend.


**A/N: Hello everybody, I hope you are all doing well!**

**I love music to bits and I wanted to write a songfic for ages and now the perfect song has finally come. Gotta love a vengeful protective Loki.**

**John Legend's 'Who did that to you?', from the Django Unchained Soundtrack (awesome, definitely check that out!) inspired this ficlet and is just a great song - heard it the first time and I just knew I had to write a tasertricks fic for it.  
**

**Feel free to read, review, favourite, follow!  
(Well, following won't be necessary since this is a shortcut, but as usual, feel free to do as you please!)**

* * *

"Who did that to you?"

Long, fine fingers caress her cheek, imperceptible, faint, careful not to touch the bloody streak beneath her swollen eye.

Darcy pushes back her locks and moves back from Loki's hands. "It's nothing. I don't think anything is broken. It may be just a concussion."

The fact that she even tries to diminish the whole incident sends jolts of energy through Loki's muscles. It is not so much the actual wound but the fact as is – someone raised his hand against his girl. A debt needs to be paid for this.

Wordlessly, he dips the clean white rag into the antiseptic and the stench of the alcohol makes Darcy scrunch her nose. Too late she realizes her mistake and deep hiss escapes her lips as her muscles constrict with the pain in the left side of her face, her eyes slamming shut with hurt.

For a second, white hot anger flashes through Loki and his blackest darkness demands violence, rivulets of scarlet, carnage, torn limbs among broken bones.

But this is more pressing right now. Within split seconds, his composure is back and he raises his hand to disinfect Darcy's wound.

The circle around her beautiful sapphire eye has now reached a kaleidoscope of brownish green and deep blue with a tinge of violet that stretches out into a venom-like yellow pattern around her cheekbone. A bruise in the distinct form of a balled fist meeting the delicate bone. His blood boils at the thought of someone raising his hand against her.

Water springs from her eyes as the clear liquid touches the tear in her skin and Loki's other hand rushes to hold her intact other cheek.

"Just a little second, love…" he mumbles and pads her injured face with feathery light touches. His magic seeps through his fingertips into her skin, absorbing the pulsing heat that leaves her nerves raw and soon, a soothing cold spreads through her veins.

A grateful sigh is Darcy's answers and much less tensed, she leans into the hand cradling her face. "Thank you…" she whispers and her eyes search Loki's.

His voice is calm, almost caring and much more frightening than any of his usual snarls, growls or spit words. "Darcy, who did that to you?"

"Someone who doesn't do well with break-ups and rejection." She mumbles as she casts down her eyes.

Loki's eyebrows shoot up and his hand halts in its movements. "A past lover of yours?"

She huffs. "He was never a 'lover' – I dated him when we met, and then of course I ended things with him. Apparently he doesn't like being replaced. He came to my apartment and wanted to know who you were." Her last words are barely a whisper.

The twitch in Loki's hand is subtle enough to go past her. Every fibre in his body screams for vengeance.

"I guess then I should do him the favour and introduce myself. What is his name?" he inquires.

Darcy laughs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, like I'd tell you. I can practically _smell_ the aggression on you."

His fingers continue their works but he avoids looking into her eyes. "I will not presume to know what you are talking about."

The headache that starts to spread through her temples is enough reason for her to drop the subject. She is far too tired to argue with the stubborn man in front of her.

As Darcy relaxes under his expert care and the leftover tension in her delicate body fades away, a small part of him is appeased, knowing she is safe with him.

But not every part.

* * *

The garage is void of customers, only the last mechanic there to pass the time until closing time, the hall basking in the amber light of the setting sun.

Matt leans on the bonnet of one of the cars here to be fixed, a bottle of beer in his right hand, the other drumming in a random rhythm against the metal of the car. He is already done cleaning up, the leftover tools already sorted back into their respective boxes and compartments.

Matt's grey eyes dart to the shadow in the back of the room. Did he see something, someone moving, a reflection? No, impossible, of course not.

He takes another sip from the bottle and again, something tickles the corners of his eyes. A stray cat from the garbage cans outside, maybe?

"Matt, I presume?" The voice is cold as frost and yet piercing like smouldering cinder. But still, nobody is to be seen and the little hairs in his neck start to rise.

He moves from his spot and scans the shadowy corner in the back again. Now, finally, he can see him, a figure emerging from the darkness, his outline suddenly visible as if he had been melded in the grey. Tall, pale like snow, slicked-back dark hair, lanky, with eyes like a mad man on the loose.

"What are you doing here?" Matt asks, his voice thick with arrogance and irritation.

His visitor doesn't answer but lowers his gaze to the hand grasping the bottle. The abrasion on his knuckles is faint, almost too shallow to be seen – but it is there.

"What happened to your hand, Matthew? Did you hurt yourself in a fight?" This voice! It sends shivers down Matt's spine. With a subtle shake of his shoulders, he tries to get rid of it. Why should he be afraid of that skinny weirdo?

"Last time I checked it was nobody's god-damned business. Now who the hell are you?"

His head hits the frame of the car door before the bottle that drops from his hand can even meet the floor.

Loki's face comes close to his victim's and the confident act from mere seconds before dissolves into a whining creature scratching at his hands for release. "_I _am a man who knows it takes a true coward to harm a woman. _I_ am the one you wanted to meet."

The wimp gurgles and tries to catch his breath. This shouldn't entertain Loki as much as it does – but it is too good to see him whimper and squirm.

"You're... Darcy's...new..."

A little more pressure to Loki's fingers and the deplorable bastard's voice dies off. Much better.

"The new man in her life, exactly. And believe me if I tell you that I was not happy to see her so distraught by someone as wretched as you." His nails dig into the skin in Matt's neck until they draw blood.

"Not – happy – at – all."

The little reddish veins in Matt's eyes indicate his lack of air but Loki could not care less.

"And I am here to make sure you understand just how much of a mistake you made when you raised your hand to use it against her."

His grin borders mania and for the next few hours, he will indulge in a part that he hopes Darcy will never ever see. For her, these hand will never bring anything but tender, love and care. Nothing else.

She does not need to have nightmares of a soulless monster.

But for this wight? He will gladly make an exception.


End file.
